


Pancakes (An Interlude)

by Trekkele



Series: A Townie, A Linguist, And Several Kinds Of Tea. [3]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Bones being a forgetful roommate, Fluff, Gen, Jim being a sleep deprived sweetheart, Joanna being adorable, Pancakes, as promised
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 16:59:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15147725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trekkele/pseuds/Trekkele
Summary: “I didn’t know he had a kid.” Uhura took a delicate bite out of her cookie, looked at it, and then took a second, less elegant, bite, humming happily. Guess she hadn’t know they were this good either.“Oh, neither did I! It was hilarious, me tripping into the dorm at eight a.m., after one of those crazy-early morning exercises, and this tiny kid glaring up at me. Daddy’s sleeping, I want pancakes.”





	Pancakes (An Interlude)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey PrairieDawn, you asked for it! Or, well, you gave me an idea that wouldn't shut up till I wrote it, but thanks!
> 
> Joanna wasn't sure why I wanted this to be longer. She was enjoying the pancakes too much.

James T Kirk was fairly certain that by the time he was stationed on an actual, Honest-to-Apollo starship, he would be capable of functioning while sleepwalking. After all, he was more than halfway there. 

But right now he just wanted to get back to  ~~ his ~~ his and Bones’s dorm room without walking into anymore walls. Or falling down stairs. (That was one fucking time, though, he  _ swears,  _ Bones _ ,  _ _ shut up _ ..)

 

Anyways, it’s 8:00 AM, he’s been awake for almost three hours now, and while that normally wouldn’t be a problem, because his circadian rhythm is just one of the many fucked up things about him, he’d also had three hours of (sadistic, intense, fucking _should be_ _illegal on medical grounds_ ) PT yesterday, and three papers due today, because apparently, all horrible things come in threes. (Is it illogical to hate a number? Possibly. Does he hate the number three? Oh yah, you’betcha.) 

And there was only so much caffeine could do. Although you’d never catch such blasphemy falling from his lips, no, coffee was a gift from the gods and must be savoured as such, long live the Cocoa Plant and Amen. 

He wanted, in no particular order, a shower, brown toast, cookies(assorted), coffee (death before decaf, suckers), twelve hours of sleep, and a pillow that smelled like starships and transporters. (Blame his mom for his fucked up sense of comfort, everyone else does. Although there really is nothing that can get him to fall asleep quiet as fast. He’s tried.)

 

What he gets, stumbling into the dorm he shares with his best friend, and _ only _ his best friend, as of 19:00 hours last night, is a tiny child dragging a stuffed lion almost as big as she is and what might be the greatest scare of his life. (Barring the Great Plebe Prank War of 2157. That Chekov kid was  _ scary _ .)

He’s man enough to admit that turning around from taking off his boots and finding a very small human glaring at him made him jump about three feet in the air (more or less) and make a ( _ very manly _ ) Eep! noise.

 

“Daddy’s asleep.” The ~~demon,~~ ~~changeling,~~ _child_ , dammit Jim, get it together, declared in what was an adorable approximation of a familiar heavy southern drawl, except _cute_ , “But I want pancakes for breakfast.” 

 

Jim blinked, trying to get his dumb brain out  _ fight or fucking fight, no flight we die like men,  _ mode, and nodded. “Ok. Pancakes. I can do pancakes.” He’s aware that he probably looks like a trainwrecked sailor, or whatever. (Metaphors were Bones territory, he only ventures in under extreme duress. Or hungover.)

 

Wait. Daddy? And glaring at Jim. And southern drawls. He stopped halfway into the kitchen and whirled back around to face the pajama clad tail he’d acquired. She bumped into him and stared, raising her tiny eyebrows in a way that did not remind him of his roomate, nope, not at all genetic. 

“You’re  _ McCoy’s _ .”

 

She twisted her mouth in a confused  _ why are you stating the obvious _ way, “Yes, Ah am a McCoy. Joana Lee McCoy, to be precise. Now, are we gonna be having pancakes?”

 

Jim shakes her hand by rote, turning around and heading back into the kitchen almost mechanically. So Bones McCoy had a kid, a frankly adorable tiny southern belle. Who wanted pancakes. Right. Sleep was for chumps anyways.

 

\---

 

Len woke up thinking he heard voices. Which was impossible, because Jim actually hadn’t brought anyone back to the dorm, ever. He tried not to be to rude about his shock, Mama had raised a polite boy, even if he was a bitter old sonuvab-

 

Joanna.

 

He had Joanna this weekend. Had he remembered to comm Jim, he said he was gonna spend time in the library, the whole thing had all been so last minute, he’d never had a chance to explain about Joanna in the first place and, fuuuuck how was he gonna explain this??

 

“ _ Sorry I never told you but when I said “the whole planet” I really meant a little girl who kinda looks like me but cuter?” _

 

Nope sounds too weird.

 

_ “Sorry I never told ya but hey, meet our houseguest! She happens to be my kid.” _

 

Ok that’s worse.

 

_ “This is Joannna. She’s mine.” _

 

He stumbled into the kitchen, eyes wild and hair basically a little neater than a hurricane but not by much, only to find Jim and Joanna chattering over a stack of pancakes about ten inches high.

 

“Bones!” Jim said joyfully, as if he walked into unexpected children daily. Knowing Jim that was actually entirely possible. 

“Come join us for breakfast! Joanna,” he said, suddenly very serious, “Wanted pancakes.” He nodded at the kid kneeling on a chair across from him, who nodded back regally before launching herself into Len’s arms. 

 

“Oof” 

 

“Daddy! Uncle Jim makes the best pancakes! You gotta try them, come on!” Len let Joanna slide down out of his arms and tug him over to the kitchen table. He politely ignored Jim’s dazed little grin and full face blush, no doubt in being called “Uncle”, and reached for some pancakes off the main plate. He wasn’t shocked, Joanna had the habit of adopting people she thought deserved it at the drop of a hat. Not that he’d tell Jim that. Kid wouldn’t shut up about it, probably.

 

Joanna was right though. These probably were the best pancakes he’d ever eaten.


End file.
